


The Call of the Desert

by vogue91



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Desert, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Introspection, Post-Divorce, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 10:38:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16638359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vogue91/pseuds/vogue91
Summary: My eyes were caught by a thick cluster of palm trees on my right.Oasis.Those oasis which until now I could only imagine, those oasis which in comics were described as one palm tree and a poodle of clear water... now one of those was a few hundred metres from me, and it was breath-taking.





	The Call of the Desert

 

My eyes were caught by a thick cluster of palm trees on my right.

_Oasis._

Those oasis which until now I could only imagine, those oasis which in comics were described as one palm tree and a poodle of clear water... now one of those was a few hundred metres from me, and it was breath-taking.

Palm trees, palm trees everywhere, of a green so blinding that stained the golden sand surrounding it. I wished I could’ve taken my travel diary, on which I took nothing on anything I found relevant, but I lacked the strength to avert my eyes from that splendour.

I went on that road stolen to the desert until I reached my hotel, right in the middle of Tozeur.

I could barely speak, astonished as I was from what I had just seen.

I came from the north of Tunisia, from Tunis’s souqs, Hammamet’s beaches, the artificial opulence of Sidi Bou Said. And nothing of what I had seen until now had been able to reach my heart like that glimpse in the middle of nothing.

I turned toward my guide, Rami Mazgou, who looked at me with a smile.

“Do you like the hotel, Mr. Visser?” he asked, with the charm typical of his people. I threw a distracted look to the building, then I turned my eyes on him again.

“I do, Rami, I do. But that’s not what I was thinking about. I was fascinated by the oasis.” I explained.

He smiled again, most likely accustomed to that kind of reaction from any simple tourist.

“Tomorrow, if you want, we can go visit it. But now it’s late, I think it’s better for us to go to sleep, don’t you think so?” he asked.

I nodded, my mind still wandering aimlessly, lost between memories and imagination.

 

~

 

I thought about a lot of things, that night. I remembered how hesitant I had been about that trip that Karel and Lester, my best friends, had given me as a present.

They hoped to make me forget what had happened, to distract me from a pitiful divorce, ended with my wife, Aileen, leaving The Hague to go live in France. Taking away Jacky, my little girl; the only reason why I was alive, the only thing which had kept me bound for a while to a marriage which had been over a long time ago.

Aileen hadn't resisted as long as me to those infinite silences, to that life which couldn’t give anything to neither of us.

I was tired, empty, no reason to go on. I had gotten my friends worried, the same friends who always pointed out to me those parts of my life still uncharted, left like that by a too premature wedding.

_“Come on, Noel, there’s no need to make a tragedy of it! You’re thirty-two, you’re still a good looking man and you’ve got all the right to start a new life.”_

Those were Karel’s favourite words, always pronounced with a smirk, almost telling me I needed to forget Aileen fast, possibly with another woman.

I had tried too many times, and too many timed I had realized that, even though I was still young, whenever I was in clubs at The Hague with them I felt oddly old.

I had reached the conclusion that there were thirty-two years old men who were still young and full of life and thirty-two years old man with a marriage behind them and a kid who felt as if their train had left the station, and they had missed it.

My train had stopped in a town in the north of France, and hadn't come back anymore.

I fell asleep frowning, a sign that nightmares were coming.

I had gotten used to it, maybe, or maybe one never gets used to live haunted by the ghosts of an ended era.

 

~

 

The next day I woke up early. Too early.

I couldn’t fall back asleep, I wanted to explored the desert, so worshipped and of which I knew so little.

Rami and I spent the whole morning in the Nefta oasis. That place that seen from afar had fascinated me so much, it was even better up close.

It was like a small universe isolated from the rest of the world where time had stopped at a concept of life based on the essential, on what earth and water had to offer.

I stared at the Berbers in the eyes, more and more astonished by the cheerfulness I found in them.

They didn’t have anything, but they seemed to be unaware of that.

Maybe, I started to think, one’s more aware of what he loses rather that what he’s never had.

They all greeted Rami, and I figured my guide mustn’t have been new to this kind of trip.

“Rami, do you come here often?” I asked, curious. He nodded, determined.

“Not so much here, itself. But I go to Tozeur every time I can.” he explained, smiling proudly.

“Are your parents here?” I tried to guess, but the following laughter made me realize my mistake.

“Chokri, Tarek and Aziza... and my wide, Fatma.” he listed a series of name, supplying a picture right after.

I stared at him and then at the photo; Rami, I seemed to remember, was twenty-eight, and the eldest kid in the picture looked at least ten.

I laughed with him.

“Rami Mazgou, you’re a surprise.” I mocked him a little, patting his shoulder.

We started walking again, faster, heading back to the jeep.

I still looked bewildered, I looked at Rami walking a few steps ahead of me.

At his age, barely four years before, I still looked like a naïve kid anxious because he was about to become a father. And him... three kids and a wife waiting for him at home, and a pure smile on his face while talking about them.

I envied him at first, since he currently had everything that I had irremediably lost, but right after I prayed for him to be able to keep that happiness as long as possible.

Only because I wasn’t granted it, I didn’t see why more worthy men than be shouldn’t have it.

 

~

 

Lunchtime came, and I was tired already. I pointed that out to Rami who, after a very bad joke about Europeans’ stamina, suggested that we ate something.

He took me to a restaurant close to the city centre, Les Andalous, which I got surprised finding almost empty. When I asked Rami, he smiled.

“It’s not travel season. We’re in September, most people come in this area of Tunisia in the spring, before it gets too hot.” he explained, then he spoke to a man who looked like the owner.

We sat down, and as I was about to ask Rami about plans for the afternoon, my gaze was caught by a shape moving quickly.

When I managed to focus, I got basically the same reaction as when I had seen the oasis of Nefta from afar. The feeling of not having ever seen something like that, the emptiness in my chest, the certainty that I was going to remember that exact moment for the rest of my life.

Short, most likely thin, but I couldn’t really tell since she was wrapped in a bulky black apron.

Her incarnate was slightly darken than the Tunisian average, her eyes low. I wished I could see her eyes, sure that I wasn’t going to be disappointed.

I shivered when I realized she was walking toward our table, her movements incredibly quick.

Once she got there she stopped, taking pen and paper from a pocket, her eyes still low.

“ _Bonjour monsieurs, voulez vous commander_?” she asked, speaking quickly. Rami smiled to her.

“Nidal! There’s no rush, it doesn’t look like the place is packed, right?” he mocked her. The girl raised her eyes from the paper to glare at him, and it felt as if I had just gotten a stroke.

A pair of deep irises, black as coal, where I could see almost only the raven-black stain in the middle of the pupil.

Sharp and, right now, full of spite toward Rami, who on his part started laughing.

“You’re always so inappropriate, Rami.” she commented, hissing. She took their order without raising her eyes again and she left, as quick as she had arrived.

I watched her walk away, my eyes wandering into space, until Rami cleared his throat noisily.

“I know... pretty, right?” he teased me. I averted my eyes from the spot where the girl had disappeared to look at him.

I was tempted to tell him she wasn’t _pretty_ , that she was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen, but I just shrugged.

“Yes, enough.” I answered, diplomatically. From the look on his eyes I realized there was no fooling him, that it was perfectly clear what I was thinking.

She didn’t serve us, she was probably still mad at Rami. For the second time in one day I hated him, since his inappropriate comment had prevented me from seeing Nidal again.

We walked out, and I surrendered to the fact that I wasn’t going to see her again.

 

~

 

“What are our plan for the afternoon?” I asked Rami, while we slowly walked toward the hotel. He smiled – or smirked, more accurately – before answering.

“We’re here for you to see the desert, aren't we? And that’s what you’re going to do today, Mr. Visser.”

I turned up my nose to his formality, clashing horribly with Rami’s whole demeanour.

“Please, Rami... Noel works just fine.” I pointed out, making him sigh theatrically.

“As you wish... Noel.” he said. In the meantime we had reached the hotel. I made as to walk inside, but he didn’t follow. “You go. I’ve got to make plans for the afternoon. It’s not so easy to go into the desert, you can't go without some arrangements.” he explained in a rush, and he left without giving me time to reply.

There was something off, I was sure of it.

But, I had to admit, I didn’t really care to find out what it was at the moment.

 

~

 

“So, are you ready?” Rami asked.

He was waiting for me in front of the hotel, and not alone. He was leaning against a jeep, the driver staring in front of himself.

“Rami, what are you planning?” was my answer; he stepped closer and patted my shoulder.

“I'm not coming. Like I said, I'm more of an expert of Tozeur than I am of the desert. You need someone used to that kind of environment.”

I opened my eyes wide, reluctant at the idea of spending the whole afternoon with that apparently little amicable man. I took Rami’s arm and we walked a few metres away from the jeep. I was about to tell him about my qualms about it, when the car’s back door opened.

I resisted the temptation to brush my eyes to check it wasn’t a precocious mirage.

It was Nidal.

I turned toward Rami, curiosity painted on my face. He got close to her, grabbing her hip, which she clearly didn’t appreciate.

“Noel, she’s our charming and shy waitress, Nidal Ben. Nidal, he’s Noel Visser. He’s Dutch.” he introduced us, but she didn’t seem to have listened. Since neither of us was saying a word, Rami went on. “Nidal’s Berber, and she knows the desert way better than me. So I thought it was more fitting for her to be your guide, this afternoon.” he said, then he pushed us toward the car.

Once we were aboard I turned to look at him, my face red.

“Rami, I...”

“There’s no need to thank me, Noel.” he interrupted him, then he gave a nod to the driver and we took off.

I leant against the seat, closing my eyes.

Damn Rami.

I was sure that, by the end of the day, I was going to manage to convince Nidal I was a complete idiot, which she most likely already thought.

And Rami had left me alone with her... well, aside from Lawrence of Arabia’s clone who was sitting next to me, without saying a word.

I turned to look at the back seat and I saw her staring outside the window.

Finding the silence incredibly embarrassing, I decided to say something.

“Thank you for accompanying me. I hope it’s not a problem for you... you know, Rami said he’s not fit to bring me to the desert, he says he doesn’t know it too well...” I started, getting no reaction from her. I cleared my throat and went on. “How far into the desert are we going? I read that there’s a salt desert and a sand one, are we going to see them both?” she kept quiet, but apparently I had lost the faculty to do as much, so I went on and on, unable to stop. “How’s the salt desert called again? Erk, right?”

Right then, without me noticing, we were in the middle of nowhere. Around us only grey-reddish soil, the road disappeared entirely.

And it was then that Nidal reacted. She smiled, sardonic.

“ _Cours.”_ she told the driver, who smiled back at her.

I didn’t know what she had told him, but the man suddenly sped up, frighteningly so.

We started a race in the middle of the uneven ground, which couldn’t really be called a road. We were stealing land to the desert, made of bumpy planes and incredibly high dunes. I held tight on the handle to avoid hitting my head against the roof. Nidal, instead, laughed like a little girl.

“Erg.” she said all of a sudden.

I turned to look at her, cautious.

“What?” I yelled, trying to be heard despite the deafening sound of the wind.

“The salt desert. It’s called erg.” she explained, still laughing. I stared at her, astonished.

“Do you think it’s funny?” I asked.

“What? The run through the desert or how terrified you look?” she teased, with a cunning smile. I struggled between getting mad and laughing with her, and I opted for the second choice.

“I'm sure you find both to be pleasant.” I told her, shaking my head with a smile.

She nodded.

“Extremely.” she stated, her smile slightly sweeter now.

We carried on with that crazy run on the dunes for a long while. When we stopped, I sighed in relief. I got off the jeep and looked around; behind us, a dune especially high, surrounded by a complete nothingness.

Nidal, without waiting for me, walked toward the mountain of sand. When she started climbing it, I shivered.

Only when she got to the top, and it took her five minutes, she looked down, realizing I hadn't follower her.

Her laughed echoed everywhere around me, filling the emptiness.

“Climb!” he yelled.

I stared for a while at the rather disquieting mountain. It looked solid, and Nidal had climbed it easily.

With a sigh, I started the ascent. As opposed to the girl, who had climbed quickly and without needing any support, I had to crawl a little to reach the top.

Once I did I saw her perfectly still on the edge, staring into the horizon.

The wind was stronger up there, warmer, and messed with her air and the hem of the long skirt she was wearing, most likely thick enough to protect her from the sand, but she barely seemed to notice.

I got closer slowly, as if I didn’t want to break that sort of spell coming from that place. When I reached there, I couldn’t speak.

While we were crossing it the sight had been fascinating, but nothing compared to what I was seeing right now.

The purest white from the salt blended with the colour of the ground, in a vortex of warmth and cold capable of captivating my eyes.

“It’s beautiful.” I murmured to Nidal, who smiled.

“I told you it was worth climbing.” her voice was smoother than I had heard until now. She was like an animal in captivity who was suddenly in its natural habitat. She had lost her sharpness and was blending with the surroundings, as if they belonged to her.

We sat down, never tearing our eyes from that natural marvel.

“Do you come to the desert often?” I asked, anxious to know more about her.

“Not as often as I’d like. I'm almost always at the restaurant, I can't afford to lose the job.” she looked melancholic, taken by unpleasant thoughts. I kept quiet until she started speaking again. “My father passed  away a few years ago, and my brothers are too young to work. My mother and I do what we can, but it isn't always easy.” she explained, making my heart clench a little at her tone.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-one.”

I clenched my lips, feeling guilty.

I complained about my whole existence, thinking about how unfair fate had been to me, while I had something I took for granted, which wasn’t at all: freedom.

Freedom to take my own decisions, freedom to do what I desired. Freedom to take a plane and go to the desert, to find out a world completely unknown.

I averted my eyes from the horizon to point them on Nidal. She was too young to be already bound by the chains of existence, too young to have the responsibility of a family weighing on her shoulders.

At that age she should’ve been free to evade, to run on that sand every time she wanted, without a single thought weighing her down.

Almost instinctively I got closer, as if I wanted to protect her from her own life. It wasn’t logical nor rational, but I felt I had finally understood what made her so shy, so untrusting. She tried to protect herself, and she still hadn't understood how to do that.

Catching my movement she leant against my shoulder, without looking at me. We kept like that for a long while, as if moving would’ve broken the magic of that unreal place.

She was the first one to react. All of a sudden she jumped up, as if the ground beneath her had suddenly started to burn.

“Let’s go. You still have to see the sand desert.” she used as an excuse, while I suspected she had done that to mask the moment of weakness.

When we arrived I realized Nidal tried to avoid my gaze; it amused me a little, but I still felt alive in me the desire to let her now I wasn’t going to hurt her.

And so, I decided to do the worst possible thing. I grabbed her arm, I pulled her closer, and I kissed her.

It lasted only moments, but it was like we were acting as a natural background for that place with that kiss. It wasn’t about the desert anymore, we were a simple, free, beautiful oasis, just like the ones seen on comics.

When we parted I was afraid she was going to slap me; instead, she burst out laughing.

“Europeans are so dramatic! There’s no need for a movie-worthy kiss acting as a happy ending.” she mocked me.

I blushed, deeply embarrassed.

“I'm... I'm sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” I tried to justify myself, but she interrupted me.

“I do. You’re a man, alone in the middle of the desert, and I'm a little Berber to feel sorry for. But since you’re a man, I can't really blame you.”

I tried a weak protest, which didn’t see to impress her.

“It’s not that. I feel like you’re right, somehow. Different from the women I’ve met, different from western women, different from my ex-wife. Different from the world where I belong.” I said, feeling incredibly stupid. Nidal caressed my face, tenderly.

“You can't be serious. But at the same time I know you mean what you’re saying.” she sighed. “You all come here certain that this world can give you what you can't find in your homes. You said ex-wife, didn’t you?” I nodded, without interrupting her. “And, from the way you said that. I suppose it hasn’t been an easy divorce.” she smiled, blushing a little, perhaps afraid she had overstepped. “You all make promises, you let the magic of the desert enchant you as if there was nothing beyond its borders. And when you go back to reality, you leave. It always happens, and don’t pretend it doesn’t.” her tone wasn’t accusatory, but surrendered.

“Perhaps you’re right. It’s likely I don’t even understand what the desert means, if it’s capable of bringing its mirages to my emotions too. But I feel it, and I don’t see why I should pretend I don’t.”

Nidal stared at the horizon again, peaceful.

“I’ve always loved the desert. One sits down on a desert sand dune, sees nothing, hears nothing. Yet through the silence something throbs, and gleams*. Not even I who was born here, who basically lives here, can define what it is. But it’s here, even though I can't touch it. I don’t blame you for having felt it, this sudden flash which seems to come from the emptiness around. On the contrary, I understand and respect the way you feel.” she told me, unusually mature for her age.

All of a sudden it felt as if neither of us wanted to talk anymore. We had told each other everything, and we were empty now.

We were going to make room for the infinite stretches of sand, for them to actually fill us like we wanted to, without getting back to the subject again.

Perhaps I should’ve been sad about it, but right now all I cared for was to spend every possible moment there with Nidal, engraving the memory of her in my mind forever.

The next day, on the plane, I was going to have all the time in the world for regrets. But regret was the feeling of death, and right now all I wanted was pure life.

Going back to Tozeur I heard her trafficking with my backpack. I didn’t concern myself with that, I didn’t want to see. I just stared outside the window, absorbed, without thinking about anything in the world.

When we parted, it wasn’t as sad as I would’ve thought. She pressed a delicate kiss to my lips, and I couldn’t react. Then she smiled.

“I'm aware that you leave tomorrow, but this doesn’t mean you’re allowed to forget about this day.” she said, making me smile.

“I will think about it countless times, and I'm sure I'm strong enough to believe it’s a memory, not a dream.” I replied, in a tone that must’ve sounded perfectly coherent to the dramatic ways of European men, according to her. And still, she didn’t stop smiling.

I realized, that was how she wanted to be remembered.

 

~

 

On the plane, I fruitlessly tried to sleep. Too many thoughts prevented my mind from being free enough to allow me some rest.

Once in my seat I had felt cold all of a sudden, and it hadn't being enough to blame it on the air conditioning, nor with the altitude, and I convinced myself that after the heat of the desert and the one Nidal had made me feel, there was going to be only cold waiting for me in The Hague, that I was never going to feel as warm again.

I grabbed my backpack, intent to write my last impressions on that place, now that I could still see it in a wider perspective.

When I opened my travel diary, I froze.

The page should’ve been blank, but it was stained in ink, shaped in a clear and elegant writing.

_I love you._

There were damp shadows on the pages, remnants of tears I wished hadn't been spilled.

I was going to go back to that place. I would’ve shown Nidal I wasn’t going to forget those few hours, which had been more intense for me than a lifetime.

I was going to keep fighting that cold.

I was forever going to hear inside of me the call of the desert.

 

 

 

*The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupery.


End file.
